


From a Distance

by icandrawamoth



Series: Love's Oldest Enemy 'verse [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: (basically?), Character Turned Into a Ghost, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Spirits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 13:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17142617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Tycho watches over Wedge from the other side. Nothing is easy.





	From a Distance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure this fic is strictly "canon" in this verse, but I watched Muppet Christmas Carol and got inspired by spirits and being able to see what's going on but not interact with it.

It's dark in the room, but the things like that haven't bothered Tycho since he died. He can see just fine the way Wedge is curled up in bed alone, face pensive even in sleep. At least he'd finally managed to drift off. He's had trouble since he's had to do it alone. It's not like he hasn't slept alone before, of course, but now it's permanent. There's no looking forward to Tycho rejoining him.

Tycho knows that too. It seems to be part of this state he's found himself in, a spirit or part of the Force or whatever one might call it. Sometimes he just knows things.

Like he can tell right now that Wedge is having a nightmare. Tycho steps forward, ghostly feet silent on the carpet, the urge to comfort burning in his chest. But he can't. He can watch, but he can't interact. Wedge has no idea he's here. It's the hardest part about all of this. Tycho had gotten over his own death rather quickly, always having known it was a possibility, but watching Wedge suffer and being unable to help has been worse than he can imagine.

At that moment, Wedge jerks awake, sitting upright in bed. He's always done that, a quicker way to wake his mind up and distance himself from the dreams, he'd explained to Tycho early in their relationship.

But now it doesn't seem to help. For long moments, Wedge just stares into the darkness and Tycho aches with the knowledge of what he's seen in his sleep. The fiery moment of Tycho's death, the sheer shock and grief Wedge felt after. That he still feels now.

Wedge is crying, then, loud and helpless in the dark. He hides his pain from the others when he's around them, but he's so open when he's by himself. Tycho would give anything, would die a thousand times, to take this pain from him.

Tycho sits on the bed next to him, the mattress unmoving under his nonexistent weight. He watches the man he loves not even try to control himself. Watches tears rolling down his cheeks, shaking shoulders that make him seem so fragile.

“I'm here, Wedge,” Tycho murmurs. “I'm sorry.”

“You know he can't hear you.”

Tycho sighs softly as another presence appears in the room and turns to see Queen Breha Organa of Alderaan. It's not the first time she's appeared to him since his death. From the beginning, she'd acted as a sort of guide, explaining things to him.

“I know.” Tycho looks back to Wedge. His hands are fisted in the blankets as he sobs, head bowed. Tycho touches his cheek, able to feel the warmth and dampness of it, though Wedge won't feel him. “How can I not...?”

He feels Breha step up behind him. “I don't expect you to stay away. I told you how long it took Bail and I to stop spending every moment with Leia. But you can't help him, and you're only hurting yourself more.”

Wedge sniffles and presses a hand to his cheek – the same one Tycho is holding, their fingers touching, intertwined from a distance. Tycho's breath catches.

“A coincidence,” Breha cautions.

“I know I can't go back,” Tycho says softly. Wedge's hand falls away, and Tycho moves, fingers skimming brown hair as if to smooth tousled locks, though they remain stubbornly unchanged. “But I can't leave him alone like this.”

“He has friends. He'll heal. I'm sorry, but there's nothing you can do to make that any faster or easier.”

Tycho closes his eyes for a moment. Breha does know. She went through the same thing with her daughter. She's trying to be kind to him, to save him the additional pain she and Bail brought on themselves.

“You need to move on, too,” Breha adds gently. “You can't stay here forever, Tycho. There are people waiting for you on the other side. Your friends. Your family. You want to be with them again.”

Tycho can't deny it, and that's a big part of why this hurts so much. He wants to stay with Wedge, to keep him company even if it doesn't know it. It feels like a duty, especially with the way Wedge is in so much pain because of him. And yet, the thought of getting to see all those he's lost again. To hug his mother and father and see his little brother's and sisters' smiling faces...

“Are you afraid he'll forget you if you leave?” Breha asks quietly.

“No.” Tycho gazes at Wedge, who seems to have dragged himself together a little more. He runs a trembling hand through his hair and gazes blearily at the chrono on his desk. Still far too early to be getting up. “I know he won't. That's what I'm afraid of.”

“Some people only get one love in their life, and sometimes that love is cut cruelly short.” Breha's words are kind but honest. “It may be selfish of me to say, but I'll always be glad Bail and got to go together. Even if Wedge never finds someone else, eventually he'll heal. He'll move on with his life, and he'll remember the good times he had with you. They'll be a source of strength and peace rather than pain.”

“Can you promise that?” Tycho asks, recognizing the desperation in his own voice.

Breha's hands land gently on his shoulders. “I don't know anything more about the future than you do, Tycho, but you know Wedge is resilient. You've told me as much. I believe he will find himself again given time.”

“So do I. He's stronger than he knows. I just hate seeing him like this.”

“I understand. And I know you aren't any more ready to leave him than he was to lose you. I'm not going to drag you away from him, Tycho. I don't have the power, and I wouldn't want to. You'll move on when you're ready as well.”

“Thank you,” Tycho says quietly. “I am glad you're here for me through this. It's...”

“Overwhelming,” Breha finishes for him. “It was the same for me, and I wasn't alone. I'm here when you need. For now, I'll give you space.”

A moment later, she's gone.

Wedge has stopped crying. Now he's just biting his lip and staring into space. Tycho frowns, feels like crying himself. His arms itch to hold the man he loves again, to impart comfort just by simple touch, but that's impossible now. He reaches out again, knowing it's useless, perhaps doing it just to soothe himself, and traces a hand down Wedge's arm before resting it over his bunched hands.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Tycho murmurs. “You're so tired.” His voice trembles as his eyes trace the dark circles under Wedge's eyes. “I know you're afraid of the dreams, but starving yourself of rest won't help. Please.”

Wedge blinks heavily and finally, finally lays back down, pulling the blankets up over himself almost protectively as he huddles into as small a ball as he can.

“That's it.” Tycho gives in to his urge and lays himself out beside him, wrapping an arm around Wedge and holding him close like he used to so many nights when they were together. He kisses his neck, soft, tender, trying to give him everything he no longer can. “I love you,” Tycho whispers. “And I'm here. I won't leave you again.”

 

With his last thread of consciousness, Wedge assumes the extra warmth curling around him is the base's heat kicking on. His breathing evens out, the comforting sensation gently leading him into a deep, restful sleep.


End file.
